Memories

Middle school and young adult novels are on my reading list because that’s what I write most often. It’s a fun age to write for and about, but there’s one plot point that bothers me: the one where the best friend “outgrows” the protagonist and abandons her; usually for the popular group. Bullying ensues. I see it so often, it feels like a cliche.

True, it adds conflict to the story, but it begs the question; does it happen that often in life? If not, there are plenty of other problems an author can throw at her/his characters. If it does happen frequently, then my high school experience was an anomaly.

This post won’t be so much about creative writing as about remembering my best friend from high school. We’d lost touch over the years. A few days ago I received a call from a former classmate that an illness had recently claimed her life. She was only three months older than me. Her name was Jean and we were best friends from the first day in seventh grade art class, all the way through high school and beyond.

Whenever we were together, we did a lot of laughing – occasionally at my expense – like the time, during a sleepover at her house when I accidentally knocked their family-sized toothpaste tube into the toilet. The sight of it at the bottom of the bowl sent us into a fit of hilarity. Neither of us dared dip a hand into the water to pull it out. My embarrassment didn’t kick in until she called her father to do the job. There was also the time, during health class when she discovered, after bending over to retrieve a dropped pencil, that I’d missed a spot while shaving. She laughed over the fact that my kneecap looked like the bristly top of an elephant’s head.

She might have laughed at me, but she also shared the hope that my high school crush would see me for the amazing person that I was and someday marry me. To reinforce the belief, she drew cartoon brides and grooms, adding his and my names underneath.

Though the plan was destined to fail, Jean enthusiastically tried to help the romance along by suggesting a double date: she’d go out with my crush’s best friend (who happened to have a crush on her) provided “crush” went out with me. One Saturday afternoon, the four of us went to a small park. It played out like a Shakespearean comedy; Fred chasing Jean for a kiss, Jean laughing and outrunning him, while my date, Brian, and I watched on.

Because Brian played on the varsity tennis team, Jean made a ceramic figurine for me. She painted it wearing green and white, our school colors. So there would be no mistake who it was, she added his first initial to the tennis ball. Sadly, that figurine no longer exists, but I found its likeness online. It only needed a few color adjustments to make it resemble the original. 🙂

After graduation we followed separate paths; Jean chose the job/marriage/kids track while I extended my childhood by attending college and staying single until my late 20’s.

Freshman year in college she spent a weekend at my dorm. All I remember about that weekend is attending midnight mass with her. Neither of us was Catholic; we went for the donuts and hot chocolate afterwards. During the service we annoyed a nun with our muffled laughter. To this day, I have no idea why a button on my sleeve set us off.

After that college visit, we only saw each other two more times: First, at a mall where I was signing copies of my first novel and she came by with her little boy at her side and a toddler daughter in a stroller. Second, at my wedding when she slipped in, while I was getting ready, to smile and assure me that my groom had, in fact, entered the building. I’m sure we also laughed over the fact that the boy I had a crush on in high school was about to marry me.

Even though my friend spelled her nickname, Jeanne. When I chose that name for the best friend in the middle grade novel I’m writing, I spelled it “Jeanie.” Besides, to me, Jeanne is pronounced JeeAn. I never called her that anyway. In fact, I rarely called her Jean. Blame our high school gym teacher who always referred to all of us by our last names.

For that reason, she will always be “Zeigler”; the best, best friend any teenager could ever have. Whenever I think of her, I picture her exactly the way she looked when we ran on the girls’ track team. In my mind, she will never age.

Because of her, all my future characters will have loving and supportive best friends.